


Bad Day

by JustJim, Useless_girl



Series: Home Is Where the Spark Is (one-shots) [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aged up characters, Alpha Derek, Angst, Dark, Detective Stiles, Drabble, Drama, Emissary in Training Stiles, Epic Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Magic, Magic Stiles, PTSD, Slash, Soulmates, Spark Stiles, Supernatural - Freeform, Trauma, Werewolves, canon and non-canon elements, emissary bond, emissary stiles, m/m - Freeform, mate bond, matured Stiles, post-Teen Wolf, sterek, teen and up audiences - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJim/pseuds/JustJim, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useless_girl/pseuds/Useless_girl
Summary: Derek gets one of those bad days, which are remnants of the time spent in Hell. Stiles helps him find his way back to reality.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Home Is Where the Spark Is (one-shots) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796680
Kudos: 8





	Bad Day

**Note:** This drabble is recommended to be read anywhere after the boys’ honeymoon in our main [Home Is Where the Spark Is](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607563) series.

**Fandoms:** Teen Wolf, Sterek

**Characters/relationships:** Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale

**Rating/category:** Teen and up audiences, supernatural, post-Teen Wolf, canon and non-canon elements, slash, M/M, Sterek, hurt/comfort, dark, angst, aged up characters, Spark Stiles, Magic Stiles, Emissary Stiles, Emissary in training Stiles, detective Stiles, matured Stiles, Alpha Derek, drama, epic romance, love, magic, soulmates, Mate bond, Emissary bond, werewolves, PTSD, trauma, drabble

**Summary:** Derek gets one of those bad days, which are remnants of the time spent in Hell. Stiles helps him find his way back to reality.

**Disclaimer:** This is a product of our imagination and was written only for entertainment and fun. We don’t profit from this fanfiction and we mean no harm or disrespect against any real person, culture or custom that might appear in the story. All original pictures or edits and fictional characters used in the story belong to their respective owners and credit goes to them.

* * *

**Bad Day  
** _Just Jim & Useless-girl_

Maybe he should have known, should have realized sooner, should have recognized the signs sooner. The inability to sleep because he needed to keep an eye on his little family. The times he did sleep were filled with nightmares and twice sleep paralysis had made itself known. The need for showers had intensified due to the lingering feeling of never ever getting clean. All those signs and not once had he put it all together to it leading up to a very bad day. Not until the bad day happened.

In a grocery store as he was having his hands full with bottles of milk. Memories of _then_ washed over him, blinding him to the now, taking away the normalcy of a store as he felt lost and alone. Stifling darkness, insufferable cold raking a cold hand along his spine, making him shiver. Voices whispered in a language he couldn't understand, it felt like his ears were stuffed and everything was too muted to make sense of. Where was the store? Where was he? What happened? Too many voices, too many others. Touching.

Pain tore through him, skin ripped from bones, fire down his throat.

_Come here, little pet. It’s time to play._

The taste of blood and ashes filled his mouth, threatening to choke him, overwhelming everything else, the sounds of chains rattling when he moved. A wounded sound tore from his ruined throat.

A hand reached out, touching him, _always touching him_. Startled, Derek jumped back, dropping the two bottles of milk, shattering the glass. It of course drew the attention of all, but he didn't see the way people stopped to stare, to whisper, didn't see the lady who had tried to bring him back by touching his arm. His green eyes were drawn to the pool of milk where the faces moved, the faces were back.

Not safe, he was not safe here! All these faces staring at him, it wasn't safe. He didn't know where he was going, only that he was running, unaware that he tore out of a supermarket in such a way that he had knocked over shelves and people and ran through a glass window. He didn't know he almost got hit by cars twice when he crossed a road he didn't see, he didn't know he left behind his car because he was leaving all of himself behind.

He ran, like the devil was on his heels. Never realizing the devil was in his own head the entire time.

Running from a past he would never escape.

Running from a reality he didn't want to face.

Running.

It took some time for Stiles to track down Derek deep in the Preserve, curled up between the roots of a big tree. Because of the bonds and being so attuned to Derek, he could use his magical connection to follow the trail his mate had left when he felt the strong distress in his mind, knowing it wasn't his. Stiles was sensitive to the Hell-related kind of terror Derek sometimes felt. Less and less during the past year, but they sometimes still happened. Although it's been quite a while since he had such a bad period.

He drove to the edge of the Preserve with the left behind Camaro then hiked through the area he could sense Derek being in.

Quietly putting his backpack down on the forest floor, he slowly and carefully approached his mate, kneeling down not far from him to let his presence and scent be noticed. Derek was prone to lash out in such a state and Stiles knew later his mate would be upset if he accidentally hurt the Spark. It happened before.

"Derek? Babe... It's me, Stiles. Derek..." he called out softly, his eyes full of sadness and worry from seeing his strong alpha covering like a wounded animal, feeling nearly feral to his senses. "It's okay, my love. I'm here now. Just listen to my voice. Come back to me, please. I need you," he continued on a calming, warm tone.

There was a snarl and a low growl when footsteps sounded close by, and if it hadn't been Stiles but somebody else, they would have been attacked instantly. Deep down Derek knew the voice, knew the scent, knew that who was there was safe and good. Deep down he was aware that Hell was over, and had been over for a while now, but that awareness had a hard time clawing its way to the surface.

The insanity had been locked away, the wall in his head prevented him from being the feral beast lurking from behind the wall, but the flashback had been too much, too overwhelming.

Derek had always hidden away whenever he needed time to himself, usually in the old brewery but it made sense he had wandered into the Preserve. As a child he had been told to heal and hide, so like the wounded animal he was, he went straight to where he felt safest.

Leaning his head against the bark of the tree, the alpha inhaled the scent of his mate, nostrils flaring.

It took a while, neither of them moving, as they eyed one another. At first there was not an inkling of recognition in the wild stare of the red eyes, although as the scent of anchor and mate kept being part of his consciousness, Derek started calming down more. The panicked light breathing had evened out, the red eyes dulled to green and eventually...

"Stiles?" The word was tentative, testing how real it was.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm right here, Derek, for real," Stiles said after spending minutes patiently waiting out to see recognition in the familiar eyes. He tentatively reached out, offering a hand for Derek to touch and hold so he could make sure he was really there. Because Stiles had gone through quite a few of these flashbacks with Derek and knew how to handle them.

"It's okay. I've got you," he said calmly and gave him a reassuring smile as well.

At first Derek grunted as he looked at the hand, like a confused animal, until he took it and sniffed it. He caressed the palm so he could feel the pulse in the wrist, as if he was seeing like a blind man. The hand didn't ball into a fist, didn't do anything threatening, didn't smell like something he didn't want to get close to so he dared to lean in more. Pushing his face into the palm. Derek nuzzled it, taking it all in very slowly.

"I want to go home," he whispered, even though he had barely moved away from his safe spot and hadn't lifted his head to look at Stiles fully since recognition had set in. He had no idea how long he had been here, if Beth was home or not. Those were things he couldn't think about at the moment. The fact that Stiles had found him like that hadn't fully sunk in yet either.

Suddenly all of nature was overwhelming, he hadn't felt the dirt for so long, hadn't smelled the trees and leaves. The birds singing were too loud, the colors too bright.

"Alright, babe. I can take you home," Stiles said softly once Derek was done smelling and scenting his hand. "I'll close the curtains and lay down in bed with you to be close to you. Would you like that?" he asked, gently caressing Derek's cheek, subtly scenting him back to make him feel more comfortable. "On my way I texted my dad to pick up Beth from preschool for a sleepover, so it's going to be just you and me. Sounds good?"

The werewolf nodded numbly, it was unclear if he understood it all, if he was realizing who dad and Beth were or where home was. But he knew, part of him was starting to remember that the memories were in the past, and that not all of him had been there in Hell. Part of him had been with Stiles, had built a life with him. They were married now.

Closing his eyes, Derek inhaled deeply a few times, unable to shake the feelings the flashback had created. Being weak like this? He hated it, it wasn't who he used to be and it also made him angry because Stiles was so patient with him. Wait, wasn’t he somewhere before here? Derek couldn't remember at the moment, could only remember the memory.

"Head's too full, too much came through. I don't want you to..." Shaking his head, he tried to form a sentence that made sense. "Don't look for the memory, I don't want you to see that. I need you to not see that."

"I promise I won't look for it," Stiles said, gently sliding his palm to the back of Derek's neck in hopes of grounding him with the steady touch and warm energies. "It's okay, Derek. Just breathe with me," he added. In a way it was "funny" that usually Derek was the one who made him follow his breathing to stop the occasional panic attacks. Now Stiles was trying to help his mate calm down so he could take him home.

Wasn't he breathing? Pretty sure he was, but Derek nevertheless focused on the command to do as he was told, matching his own breathing to Stiles' and with that came familiarity with that extra heartbeat. Their child, their child was in there. That was something to focus on, a good reason to try and get past this memory too and not get lost in his head.

"Okay, okay." Derek wanted to go home, he didn't even know where they were, but it was too much. "Okay," Derek repeated as he slowly stood up on unstable legs which were holding his weight just fine as long as he focused on standing. Exhaustion was tugging at him, eyes burning. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, my love," Stiles reassured him, knowing that going into lengthy explanations wouldn't do too much good, so he kept his reassurances short and more on the physical side as he kept his hand on Derek's nape once he had his backpack slung over his free shoulder and started slowly walking with him towards the edge of the Preserve where the Camaro was waiting.

Stiles didn't know that their baby's heartbeat and presence were helping with grounding his mate into this reality too. But that tiny life in him was the reason he's been extra patient and careful when approaching Derek after such an episode. Pre-pregnancy Stiles wouldn't have cared about some claw marks or shoving away, but now he had to. Derek wasn't the only overprotective parent of their unborn child.

Derek knew he did have to apologize. His mate was pregnant and Derek was adding to the burden, so for that he felt guilty. Talk was cheap though, he shouldn't say sorry and not attempt to lighten the load so he grew quiet and straightened up a little. This was fine, he could do this. He had to get himself back in order so the human could focus on what he needed and the little life inside.

The problem was, he had no idea what had triggered this, but it was obvious he had to be more careful these days. His brow furrowed into a pinch as he saw his car, not sure how it got here, nor where he had left it. Well, that was a big fail, trying to protect Stiles and the kids. He didn't ask to drive, although there was a glance to the small bump there to gauge if it was safe for the other to get behind the wheel.

Catching the confused look then that glimpse, Stiles chuckled softly. "Hey, don't worry. I'm perfectly capable of driving. I've been driving around ever since the start of the pregnancy. We'll be fine, babe," he reassured Derek, keeping the eye-contact for a few more moments then he lightly squeezed the back of his mate's neck before finally letting go.

"I found the car at the grocery store and drove here," he said on a light tone as an explanation to what the Camaro was doing here. "Come on, let's go home and snuggle up in bed," he suggested and sat behind the wheel, putting on the seat belt and starting the car with confidence by then since he's driven Derek's muscle car plenty of times – a few times even before they got together.

It wasn't the capability of driving Derek had doubted, more the safety of that small bump under the harsh pulling of the seat belt and the way the wheel was so close. But since Stiles was so confident it was fine. The Hale glanced once more at the belly before his gaze slowly shifted to look at the dashboard. He didn't want to see the colors flitting by from outside so he focused more on trying to sort through the mess in his head, since that was the most helpful right now.

"I need a shower." Not asking for one, no, he really needed one. There was no way he should get into their bed like that, because their bedroom was _their_ domain. The stench of Hell needed to go first. His head was aching and he rubbed at it, as if to soothe it. It would sort itself again, at least they had that reassurance from previous bad days. They could add to nightmares, could add situations he avoided for a bit until Derek had the time to work through it. Painting about it worked, to get the sharp edges from the memories, literally putting them on the fabric so he could put them in a corner.

"Sure thing," Stiles said as he started driving. His tone was light, but he could sense the real meaning behind that simple sentence. But he stayed calm and supportive and for a change wasn't babbling, because he knew that Derek's head usually hurt after the attack of the Hell-memories.

So he drove in silence until they reached the loft and used the elevator to get upstairs. He guided Derek to the bathroom and gently stripped both of them. He wasn't going to let Derek go in there alone to rub his skin raw. He was going to wash him and hold him under the water. Because he wasn't alone in this.

The chance of the werewolf scrubbing until he'd bleed had been a real one, which Stiles must have known right away because he was naked and getting into the shower as well. Not asking, nor demanding, simply quietly being there to make sure the shower wasn't unsafe for either one of them. At first Derek bristled, because he had been looking forward to scrubbing himself clean, not to be cleaned gently with soothing hands and sweet smelling soap. At first he had jerked away from the hands, more out of instinct, but after a few minutes of the calming presence of his mate, Derek calmed as well.

And he knew that the scent of Hell was in his mind, it wasn't a reality because it was a memory and Hell was nearly a year ago. Stiles didn't comment on it, he understood his need and let him have it, let him cleanse himself with warm water. Stiles carefully turned it off when they were running out of hot water and got them warm clothes. Comfortable clothes for in bed, sweatpants and one of Stiles' famous hoodies for Derek so he could cover himself up and have his mate's scent around him. When he felt like this, putting the hood up actually helped feeling safe, kind of like when kids would hide under the covers.

The curtains were drawn, as promised, and Derek curled up in bed, having the comfort of two heartbeats and one person breathing slowly next to him.

"Do you think it counts that what happens to your soul is as if it also happens to your body?"

Stiles lightly frowned from that question while holding Derek close with his arms around him under the covers. It was cool enough in the room not to feel too hot even with the werewolf body giving off that trade mark heat.

"What do you mean exactly?" Stiles asked, pressing a soft kiss against Derek's forehead.

"What happened to my soul… it wasn't happening to my body, my body was here." Which made it all the more confusing. And he wasn't sure if it counted, because they were two different things. Also a good thing because he wouldn't look the way he did if it had been his actual body. He’d be a mutilated mess.

"But... if your body was here then what happened to your soul didn't happen to your physical body, right? I mean... then it would've... well, it would've been in a much worse condition than it was..." Stiles murmured, unsure. He only saw when Derek was probably looking much better than upon his return. He remembered the older look and grey in his hair and beard. And the uncharacteristically thin body for his built. Yeah, he looked sick and much older, but otherwise... "It had left its marks on it. But it could've been much worse, I guess," Stiles summed it up, unsure.

"The first time I was in Hell, I was there with body and soul, I gave half my soul up to get out. So my body was here and half of my soul was there. I wouldn't be here if it had been the other way around." No, there was no way his body would have been able to hold out through all of that, he wouldn't even have limbs anymore. But that's not why he asked.

Hiding his hands in the long sleeves of the warm sweater, so he wouldn't scratch at himself, he stared into the darkness of the room. "I remember being here, and I remember being there. So the memory makes no sense, like it shouldn't be a memory even though I know it is. And it feels like it was real." He lifted his head suddenly. "I need to know if it counts to you."

"Derek..." Stiles lifted his head too to be able to look into his mate's eyes deeper. "If you're asking if it bothers me then _no_. No, it doesn't. I've told you before this but I'll tell you every time you need to hear it: I love _all_ you. With all my heart and soul. With all the past and baggage and damage. Just like I know you love me with all of that too. So no, it doesn't matter to me. I won't love you less because of what had happened to your body or soul," he said, a gentle hand cupping and caressing the stubbly face half-hidden in his hoodie.

Yeah, he _needed_ to hear that right now, needed to know for sure that nothing was going to change, nothing was going to come between them. Derek leaned into the touch when his cheek was cupped, pressing against the calloused hand as his eyes fluttered closed. This was okay, this was good. Maybe it counted but it didn't matter, which was the most important thing. The fear of losing Stiles' respect was deeply ingrained. It was why he hid away his paintings and didn't show anybody. It was his therapy, his dirty secret.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, Derek nodded and curled back to his previous position, keeping the hand close, clutching it with his own. He used to be a proud man, then was reduced to nothing more than a pet to torture. It certainly messed with his confidence, which hadn't been that great to begin with.

Leaving his hand in Derek's clasp, Stiles sighed softly, holding him close and pressing soft kisses onto Derek's forehead, letting him bury his head against his collarbone.

"You're just as much my world as I am to you. Nothing will ever change that or come between us," Stiles unwittingly answered Derek's thought. "Try to rest, my love. I'm right here with you."

Derek didn't think he would be able to sleep, not at the moment. But as time passed and the heartbeats soothed him, the werewolf did fall into a restless slumber. There was a lot of tossing and turning, more nightmares to add to the pile.

There was no discussing about what had happened, because Derek refused it. He had paid for the broken window in the store and didn't go there for a while to make sure he wasn't stared at for the wrong reasons. He did make sure to get some sleep every night instead of staring at Stiles sleeping, to keep his head clear. Maybe it was going to be enough for a while.


End file.
